correct me if I'm mistaken

Yesterday I was wrong. It was Sarah Coakley who proffers 5 interpretations of the kenosis passage and its meaning for the incarnation. Her reference to NT Wright is his "exhaustive survey of the possible meanings of harpagenos [a thing to be grasped, booty] in this context" on p 81 of his "The Climax of the covenant." The title of her book is not "submission and the powers" but "powers and submissions." I can't understand why my memory reversed the terms. Her book is a good book with a wonderful Piero della Francesca image of the Madonna della Misericordia on the cover. Piero, as his friends called him, was an inspiration to 20th century American modernists, who saw in the geometric simplicity of his forms and the monumentality of his compositions something they wanted to do, without the attendant religious symbolism or necessity of church patronage. There's a relation between Piero and Cezanne. One of my art professors would go on and on about him and then do a painting of a big color field of gray with a collaged image from Hustler about the size of a postage stamp in one corner. He loved Ezra Pound. At the time he was very liberal, an ACLU officer, and I was very conservative. We got along wonderfully, and now I wonder at how gracious he was to me. He died in 1987 of cancer. The other day, as we were moving, I came across the bulletin for his funeral at 1st PCUSA in Athens. I wish that I could speak with him today. Often since then I've wanted to say, "look what I'm doing now, what do you think?" And now I have my own big volume of the Cantos sitting on the shelf next to my desk. "And the sun high over horizon hidden in cloud bank/ lit saffron the cloud ridge/ dove sta memoria." LXXVI. The other day, reading the periodical Poetry I read some fellow taking pot shots at ol Ez, and I thought, "oh sure. You say this now that he's long dead. But if you were locked up in St Elizabeth's, no cadre of poets would come to your rescue and plead that the government let you go and not hang you." And that says something that Ezra Pound was more than a poet as we meet them today; he was a full blown person, whose verse was the residue of his passion. That's perhaps one reason my very liberal professor could like the "fascist" Pound - as well as why TS Eliot, Robert Frost, and others, who didn't share his ideas, liked him as well. This person, this genius with crazy ideas but great feeling for life, is seemingly absent from our world. The art magazines are full of wonderfully bright artists, but they are either "bad boys/girls" without substance or overly substantive (do we suspect that there's less there than meets the eye?) without generating much passion. The same in poetry and music. I scan the horizon and don't see another Pound.